


How to Woo (or Kill) a Vampire in Three Easy Lessons

by The Little MerBucky (blue_pointer)



Series: Death Comes Calling [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Arson, Asexual Bucky Barnes, BAMF Nick Fury, Bisexual Tony Stark, Depressed Bucky Barnes, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Iron Soldier, Iron Winter, Libraries, M/M, Manhattan, Medieval Self Help Books, Nerd Tony Stark, Podfic Welcome, Sanctum Sanctorum, So much flirting, Tony Is Not Helping, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony/Bucky - Freeform, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Politics, Vampire Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier reboot, butt touching, history of stucky, scene recreation, stealing bodies, vampire butts, vampire conspiracy, what happened to Pepper, winteriron, woke history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:23:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/The%20Little%20MerBucky
Summary: While infamous vampire hunter Nick Fury starts his most dangerous game with Steve, Bucky helps Tony search the Sanctum Sanctorum for instructions on how to kill a vampire. But Tony has a poorly-hidden agenda: seduce Bucky now that they're finally alone together. How hard could it be?





	How to Woo (or Kill) a Vampire in Three Easy Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> No one expects the Russian Inquisition!

When Fury arrived, following the tracker he’d put on the vampire at the hospital, police activity let him know which apartment he was looking for. ‘A tragic loss of someone so young, so beautiful, so much potential,’ reporters were writing. ‘Cause of death unknown.’ He watched from the sidelines, nonplussed. Bloodsuckers were so predictable with their ‘brides’. For once, he wanted to see one turn an ugly one. Someone obese. Someone old. This one was none of these. And a redhead to boot. Typical.

He followed the coroner’s van back to the Medical Examiner’s office. Virginia Potts wasn’t a top priority for the State of New York. It was a Saturday; bodies had been coming in all night. That gave him time to grab a nametag and a uniform and take a look through the morgue. “Bingo.” He found the right drawer and wheeled her out on a gurney, easy as pie. People never asked where you were going with a body. Clearly, if you were going somewhere with a corpse, you knew what you were doing.

He’d left his calling card for the wannabe ‘master vampire,’ a note with the words, ' _Lose something?'_  written on it, and just enough of his own scent to let the loser know who he was dealing with. Fury was looking forward to his prey getting the message.

Back in the SUV,  he had time to think. Thanks to Mr. Rhodes, he had two of the bloodsuckers’ names and a pending inquiry to the city clerk’s office that he knew would pay off. These vampires were young, reckless, stupid. They didn’t avoid TV cameras and they didn’t change their names when they bought property. It was something like naivete, but more ego-flavoured.

He was headed north on FDR Drive to put the baby bloodsucker on ice and get a little shut-eye (just one) when it happened. Driving through the underpass to 96th Street, even the man who was prepared for everything was caught off guard by the lone figure standing between lanes of traffic. He was still reaching for his gun when the woman in black raised her arm and fired at the armored SUV. He braced for impact, but it was worse than that. In the middle of rush hour traffic, the grenade exploded underneath him, flipped the SUV end over end onto its back, flames and sparks flying every which way as it skidded 30 yards to a fiery halt. The collateral damage was impressive.

Nick strapped his boots on and burst out the passenger door before the fire could reach the gas tank, spewing hollow-tip rounds as fast as his desert eagles could shoot. The black-clad figure seemed to slow time, catch them easily in her hands. She tossed them aside and kept coming, her face hidden behind a black mask and thick goggles. The copper curls, whipped up in the breeze coming off the East River like dancing flames, were her only distinguishing feature. That, and a red star on the left arm of her leather armor. But Nick already knew who she was.

He fired off a few more rounds, sprinting for the ledge, but she was going for the car. “Goddamn vampire politics,” he swore, jumping up to the southbound side and catching a ride back to 71st Street. The yellow cab driver wondered what the thump and clatter on the roof of his vehicle was, but he had a fare. No time to stop now.

Nick headed to the Park Avenue Armory to make his complaint to the client. “You never told me the Russians were involved!” he shouted into the phone, stalking around the historic building, pissed at the interruption of his plan.

“Th-th-they’ve made no contact with us, Mr. Fury,” the thrall stuttered, clearly not having anticipated a conversation with him today.

“Well they just made contact with me,” he growled. “Chavez owes me a new vehicle, and I need to replace half my arsenal now.” He whipped around angrily, scaring a group of tourists. “You people need to handle your shit. I wasn’t paid to get in the middle of a motherfucking vampire clan war.”

He was going to give them one more chance. But if the goddamn Winter Soldier showed up anywhere near him again, he would consider the contract void and just go back home with his money. He hadn’t been paid nearly enough for this level of bullshit.

 

*

 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Tony asked him at last, though he honestly didn’t want this to end. Sitting here together in this peaceful space, he was starting to feel something happen. Something good.

“Shouldn’t you?” came the response.

“Hey, I’m always awake during the day.” That earned him a doubting look. “Well, I mean, I am diurnal and all. You should be...passed out in a pine box somewhere by now, yeah?”

Bucky looked away again. “You don’t know very much about vampires,” he said.

“No, I don’t.” And that was kind of the point. “Teach me?”

His sigh was half a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“How to kill one, mostly,” Tony answered quickly, and Bucky went stiff. Maybe asking so bluntly had not been his best-laid plan.

“I can’t help you with that.” Bucky’s fingers uncurled, and he started to pull away, but Tony held him.

“What, is it like a vampire etiquette thing? Am I asking the wrong way?”

Bucky turned his head to look at Tony. He looked tired and sad. “You can kill me if you want.”

“What?” Now it was Tony’s turn to pull away. “Hell no, why would I do that?”

“Well, I am a vampire.” Bucky shrugged, as if that was all the explanation necessary.  

“Look, I’m just trying to protect myself here,” Tony told him. “I don’t need protecting from you, do I?” Bucky just looked at him, his eyes sad, hopeless. “Right. So what if we play a game of twenty questions? All you do is answer yes or no. It’s not like you’re really telling me.”

Bucky looked away, considering. “If the elders find out I helped you, my death will be slow and agonizing.” And no one knew how to torture like a vampire. They’d had millennia of experience perfecting the art. He sighed, coming to a conclusion pretty quickly for what he’d just said. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

Tony looked at him quizzically. “You really are some kind of masochist, aren’t you?”

He turned to look at Tony again. “I’ve already betrayed Steve. My life is as good as over.” And he looked kind of relieved about it. That worried Tony. Did he care about Steve that much? Or was Steve just that fucking scary that even vampires knew they were screwed when they got on his bad side? Tony didn’t like either option. So he went for door number 3: humor.

“Cheer up, buttercup. Look at the bright side: you’ll never have to go to another boring charity dinner.”

Bucky’s lips curled slightly at his joke. “I don’t know. I met some nice people there.” But suddenly he looked stricken. Did Tony manage to say the wrong thing again?

“Hey. Heeey.” Tony scooted closer on the edge of the fountain, unable to refrain from putting an arm around Bucky when he looked like that. “I’m sure one of them was a real jerk, but he’s kind of glad you were there.” He rubbed his cheek against Bucky’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t have made it without you, kid.” But Bucky was turning his face away, unimpressed.

Tony backed away, stood up. “Well...anyway, I’ve got a job to do. Understand if you don’t wanna help me.” He scuffed his foot against the floor. “See you around, I guess.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky wanted to know.

Tony bent to retrieve mini-Dum-E, who’d been sulking in the corner, unable to attack Bucky from the floor. “Um. The library, I guess. Stranger Things said I could find info there.”

“Do you know where it is?” Bucky asked, like he already knew.

“I mean, it’s gotta be here somewhere, right?” Tony hedged. “How big can this place be?”

Bucky stood up. “Come on. I’ll get you there.”

“So you’ll be my date after all?” he grinned, walking over to take Bucky’s hand again.

“You are a strange little man,” the vampire told him with a melancholy look.

“But you wanna kiss me, right?” Tony smirked, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Do I?” Bucky looked startled by the suggestion. The game was afoot.

“Yeah, of course you do,” Tony teased, turning his head as he looked up into stark blue eyes. “I’m irresistable.”

Bucky let out a surprised laugh, and for a moment, Tony thought he was actually going to get what he wanted. “Come on,” Bucky told him. “This way.” He led them out, and Tony followed him like a besotted puppy, indescribably thrilled that Bucky was still holding his hand.

“So, back to killing vampires,” he said, tripping cheerfully down the hall with his maudlin companion.

Bucky pressed his lips together, ignoring all of his instincts to get the hell out of this conversation. “Okay.”

“Tell me, Dracula, what kinds of things can actually hurt you?”

“That’s not a yes or no question,” Bucky reminded him. “I’m Irish, not Romanian.”

“Well you can’t fault a guy for trying,” Tony said.

“Yes I can.” Bucky’s tone was flat. “Try again.”  

“So what you’re saying is, you WROTE Dracula, not that you are Dracula.”

“Very funny.” But Bucky didn’t sound like he thought it was funny. Tony was a little crushed. He watched his companion’s head turn, as though he were tracking a sound Tony couldn’t hear. “This way.”

“How do you know?” Tony wanted to know.

“I can smell the paper.”

“So you have a heightened sense of smell. Good job, Sounder.”

“The dog dies,” Bucky said matter-of-factly, leading the way.

“What?”

“At the end of the book, the dog dies.”

“Spoiler alert,” Tony snarked. “You’re just a little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

“I just want you to have realistic expectations,” Bucky told him. “Stories like this don’t have happy endings.”

“Well I’ve got news for you, sweetheart.” Tony clenched his jaw, stubbornly. “I’m Tony Stark. I make my own endings.” He let go of Bucky’s hand, boldly forging ahead.

“That door leads to the aquarium,” Bucky told him.

Tony paused, losing some of his bravado. “Oh.” And seriously curious what was on the other side of the door now. If he opened it, would it just be water, suspended in thin air? Would fish be peering out at him?

“Come on,” Bucky said. “This way.” And led him up a flight of stairs. Tony followed, ogling his sweet vampire butt.

“You know, you wear your pants kind of loose,” he observed. “I know a guy in the garment district who could fix you right up.”

Bucky paused, causing Tony to nearly collide face-first with his backside. It was kind of a shame, as near-misses went. “You honestly think clothes matter to me right now?” he turned around to glare at Tony unhappily.

“Oh, honey, clothes always matter.” Tony took the few steps up to stand next to him. “And if you don’t care, trust me, I’m gonna have the best time dressing you. Let’s start with some leather pants.”

Bucky looked at him, confusion, annoyance, and depression all warring with one another. “I’m not a Ken doll,” he said, finally.

“I’ll say,” Tony smirked, sliding a hand over Bucky’s hip. “His spray-tan good looks can’t hold a candle to yours, gorgeous. And no way are you sporting a smooth bump between those muscular thighs of yours.” He couldn’t be sure, but he thought Bucky might actually be blushing. It was making him hard. And bold. He ghosted his palm over one buttock, just getting the lay of the land, so to speak.

Bucky straightened suddenly. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.” He huffed, starting back up the stairs.

“ _Au contraire_ ,” Tony smirked. “It’s getting me to the starting block, anyway.”

He continued to walk a step behind Bucky, traipsing down hallway after hallway, all the while imagining what he would look like in different outfits, some of them historical. He was a vampire, after all. That gave Tony a new thought. “How old are you, anyway?” He finally looked up at Bucky’s face. “Or is that something I shouldn’t ask? Never ask a lady or a vampire their age?”

Bucky snorted. “I was born during World War I.”

“Oh.” Tony tried not to think of how many great grandfathers ago that made him. “Well that’s not so old.”

“Not so old,” Bucky agreed, turning an ornate doorknob that opened on the crackling musty smell of decaying paper, and the largest private library Tony had ever seen.

“Beauty and the Beast, eat your heart out,” he said, walking in and looking up and around. There were books everywhere but the ceiling, which was artfully painted with mid-Renaissance-style murals.

“Is that a Disney reference?” Bucky asked, shaking his head.

“So I’m younger than you,” Tony said. “But you knew that about me when you first asked me out.”

“I didn’t--” Bucky began, indignantly, and then saw the sly smirk on Tony’s face. “You’re impossible,” he told him, uncertain how the mortal could stay so upbeat and wacky in the midst of a crisis.

“That’s not true at all,” Tony chided gently, walking past him to climb a rolling ladder. “I’m improbable!” He kicked off one of the shelves and went rolling down the wall. “Unpredictable! And devilishly handsome.”

“I’m glad someone’s having fun.” Bucky followed more slowly. “Do you even know what you’re looking for?”  

Oh, right. Tony had come here for a reason besides showing off for his cutie vampire soon-to-be-boyfriend. “Where’s the vampire section?” he turned to ask, raising a professionally-tweezed eyebrow.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask me, ask the library.”

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Magical ask-and-get libraries, floating aquariums behind wooden doors, what else could this place do? He tapped his lips, trying to think of a likely title. He knew a subject search would turn up way too many results, and he’d be wading through books for hours, which they did not have. “A treatise on successful vampire killing, please,” he said, looking up, like the god of the library was floating there, awaiting his request. Tony stood there, waiting, like something was actually going to happen.

“You know what?” He turned around to Bucky. “You’re an asshole. I actually believed you.” But he found Bucky listening, as though he could hear something Tony couldn’t again. “What is it, Sounder? Did you find a book? Go fetch it, boy!”

The vampire gave him a sardonic look and sauntered off--maybe to get the book, maybe to leave Tony here with his sense of humor. And though Tony didn’t like to think of him going, he sure did like to watch him leave. “Has anyone told you how sexy you are today? Because if not, allow me to be the first.”

“Woof woof,” Bucky deadpanned, and leapt two stories to the catwalk that circled the room, allowing access to the topmost shelves. He grabbed a volume that had been pushed out from among its fellows, and floated back down to where Tony waited, handing it to him.

“You really can fly,” Tony said with wonder.

“I didn’t want you to think you were crazy when you woke up,” Bucky explained, remembering having told Tony he was just dreaming.

Tony leaned his head against a rung of the ladder. “Everything about you is like a dream come true,” he said, smiling, lovestruck.

“Stop being improbable,” Bucky scolded him, holding the book out to to him. “This is serious, Tony. Life and death serious. Don’t let the Sanctum’s insulating effect make you think we’re out of this.”

“Say my name again,” Tony said, sounding dreamy. Bucky threw the book at his head. “Hey! There’s no need to start damaging one-of-a-kind manuscripts!” He bent down to retrieve the sad tome, lying face down, its gilt-edged pages bent. Tony kept it open to the page where it had fallen open, resting the book on his forearm as he read: “Fire cannot be discounted as both inhibitor and deterrent.”

 

*

 

The flames were beginning to lick across to adjacent houses. Nick had really wanted to play a good old-fashioned game of vampire and well-armed mouse, but the interference of the Russians this morning had made him opt for the quick and dirty way. He set off the charges on the second floor, wanting to make sure to collapse and engulf the structure in its entirety before first responders came on the scene. He’d seen it happen before, you just start to get a vampire nest good and hot, when here comes some average joe hero-guy, rushing in to get eaten by the monster starting to roast inside. Vampires stopped giving any fucks when they were on fire. The one who’d been the cause of the Fire of London had made ghouls out of any human coming near his resting place. Now that had been a clusterfuck.

Fortunately for Brooklyn, Nick was a professional. No, 569 Leaman Place would never be the same, but at least the neighbors would live. Once he’d gotten the addresses from the city clerk’s office, Nick had come out and carefully cased the neighborhood. The hard-working residents were at work or at school this time of day, not even a dog stirring at home. He’d taken his time studying the vampire’s house, the obvious one, the one with no signs of life from the first story up, the one that had been purchased in 1945--all the others had come later. He’d walked all four stories, setting charges, pouring gasoline over the usual sentimental artifacts of a long life lived: rolls of tickets from Coney Island circa 1930. A baseball signed by Babe Ruth. Stacks of vintage photos of favorite people or places. It showed the careless immortality of the recently dead: even humans knew to store priceless mementos like this in a safe place.

The building was old, uncared-for, full of dust and dry wood. It went up like kindling. Hearing the sirens in the distance, he set off the charges on the third story. The sun was shining on the Brooklyn Bridge, low waves on the surface of the East River like playful ripples coming up from the Atlantic to play. It was a beautiful day for arson.

 

*

 

Tony looked up at Bucky. “You can burn?”

“I’m more flammable than you are,” he shrugged, “though I can’t explain the science behind it.”

That piqued Tony’s curiosity. Maybe too much. The avid mad scientist look on his face must have given Bucky the wrong idea.

“You can set me on fire, if it helps,” he offered. And then glanced around them at the ornate woodwork, not to mention millions of books. “But not here.”

“Alright, Edward Gorey, would you cut that out?” Tony slammed the book shut. “Holy Kevorkian, I’ve never met someone so eager to die!” And it bothered him. It really bothered him.

“It wouldn’t kill me,” Bucky explained calmly.

“And stop tempting me to use you as a test subject!” he demanded, stamping his foot on the ladder. It was way too tempting, and he didn’t like that either. “Keep going, I might just do it.”

“I don’t mind,” Bucky said. “At least that way I can help.”

“See, but I do!” Tony hopped down from the ladder with a satisfying thump. “I happen to like you. Like, a lot.” He glanced down, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “So sue me if I don’t want anything bad happening to you.” Though he hated to admit it. Tony felt like the second he admitted he cared about someone, he’d lose them.

“Why?” Bucky asked, like they were having a public debate. So much for getting comfort or reassurance out of him.

“W--I don’t know,” Tony grumped. “Call it your sparkling optimistic personality. Your hot 100-year-old twink bod. I don’t know.” He saw Bucky opening his mouth to protest and plowed on. “I just do, okay? Let’s leave it at that for now.”

Bucky shut his mouth, but he was almost smiling a little. Tony took a certain flirtatious pride in that. He walked over to one of the antique reading tables that must have been used for war councils in the middle ages. Its thick, dark, scarred wood could have seated Tony and 20 of his closest friends. Or--he realized--would have provided ample surface for a roll in the library with his gloomy companion. Tony glanced back over his shoulder to find Bucky had followed him, arms crossed over his chest. Okay, so maybe the lovemaking would have to wait. He opened the book again, perused the table of contents and introduction before turning to the first chapter.

“Sunlight: Your Best Ally in Vanquishing the Undead.”

 

*

 

Fury watched as the firefighters struggled to put out the blaze. The building was toast, it would be nothing more than a scaffold to cast the noon sun’s shadow over the young vampire’s grave. Oh, there was a chance he was still undead in there. Nick had left the basement level untouched. In spite of the inconvenience this morning, he liked to play the game, so he took a gamble. There was no fun in killing a sleeping vampire. And the creature would prove its metal if it managed to survive the long spring day without shelter.

As the nearest neighbors caught fire in earnest, he decided a break was in order. It tended to send the wrong message to the police if you stood and watched a house fire burn for more than an hour. He headed back to the hospital to see if Rhodes’ boy had regained consciousness.

 

*

 

Tony looked up at Bucky. “Who is this guy, Steven Covey, vampire hunter?”

Bucky shook his head. “Erzsébet de Ecsed was a woman.” Tony hurriedly flipped back to look at the author’s name. “The most feared hunter of her time--the first Slayer, some say.”

“Hooooold on, Mr. Professor,” Tony said, reading and rereading the name on the title page. “Elizabeth Bathory was a serial killer. She’s one of those real life people that get listed on all the vampire history shows.”

“You don’t really think the elders would let a dangerous hunter like that be memorialized as she truly was in human history, do you?” Bucky snorted. “Every little girl in the world would want to be the next Slayer, and then where would they be?”

Tony scowled. “Are you saying supernatural forces warp the text of human history?”

Bucky just looked at him. “Do you not realize the white male narrative has done the same thing, but WAY more obviously? Ever hear of a little thing called the European Witch Craze of the 14th to 17th centuries?”

“Okay, okay, I get the point,” Tony snarked. “Elizabeth Bathory wasn’t some crazy lady who bathed in the blood of virgins.”

“Oh, she was bathed in blood alright.” Bucky said. “We tend to bleed a lot when you stab us. Go ahead and try it, if you don’t believe me.”

“Would you just stop?” Tony whirled on him. “Constantly asking me to hurt or kill you, I feel like I’ve stumbled into some hardcore S&M gig without knowing the rules or safe words. And it’s kind of turning me on.” It wasn’t, it was actually scaring the hell out of him, but humor was his quickest defense. “So quit it.”

“I’m sorry, Tony.” Smelling his fear, Bucky followed his first instinct, and walked over to put his arms around him.

Tony hit him in the chest for his trouble. “Stop trying to get fresh. You’re a terrible person.”

Bucky sighed. “I know.”

“You’re supposed to defend yourself,” Tony pouted, resting his cheek on Bucky’s clavicle. “So I can come back and say I meant you’re terribly handsome. Sexy. Warm.” He burrowed into Bucky’s embrace. “All the things.”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Bucky said.

“If you’re really sorry, then kiss me,” Tony sulked.

“I’m sorry for ruining your punchline,” Bucky said gently, tipping Tony’s chin up to face him. He stared into those beautiful blue eyes, feeling dizzy, punchdrunk, giddy as his own slid slowly shut. He puckered up, only to feel Bucky’s lips press against his forehead. “Now let’s get back to work.”

Tony scowled fiercely. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

“Come on, Romeo.” Bucky tapped the book, encouragingly. “You’re not gonna learn anything from a make-out session.”

“Says you!” Tony grumped, but he was too miffed to want to kiss and make up now. The nerve of this 100-year-old vampire, treating him like a kid!


End file.
